


Sunday Morning

by sci_fis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, brothers in love, references to Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sci_fis/pseuds/sci_fis





	Sunday Morning

Dean remembers a time when Sam was so small next to him that he’d hated himself for the things they did together, frightened beyond measure that he’d break Sam, hurt him in ways he may never recover from. Now, they take up so much space, two tall men entwined on the bed, that even Dean’s huge memory foam can’t quite contain them, not really, but Sam has a way of curling around Dean’s body that makes it seem that they were meant to fit together like this.

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, pulling him back to the present. He’s sleep-warm and all wriggly on Dean’s slicked-up fingers buried deep inside him. The smell of baby oil is around them. Dean remembers finding a half-full bottle in a shabby motel room when Sam was thirteen and eager even just for the single finger that Dean was willing to put inside him. Well, that and his tongue. Dean spares a moment of regret for not having tongued Sam thoroughly before slicking him up with the oil.

“Yeah, kiddo.” He turns his head as Sam nuzzles up against him, sweetly compliant, and inhales the warm, coconut-y fragrance of Sam’s shampoo.

Sam turns on his side and lines up his cock against Dean’s. It’s not quite winter yet but cold enough that they’re under the covers for this, cocooned in each other’s body heat.

“More,” Sam demands, pushing back against Dean’s fingers and then forward in a gentle rhythm, rubbing against Dean, wrapping a leg over Dean’s hips, his mouth against Dean’s collar-bone and his hands mapping the bare skin of Dean’s thighs, his ass, his back.

Never one to leave his little brother wanting, Dean gets with the program then, turning them over so Sam’s on his back, his leg still around Dean, and Dean’s half-reclining against him, half-pressing him into the mattress, giving Sam leverage to fuck himself on Dean’s fingers. He slides his free hand through the impossibly dark silk of Sam’s hair, tangling his fingers and tugging back, knowing how much Sam loves this, dipping his head and swallowing Sam’s moan of appreciation. He bears down against Sam just as Sam pushes up against him, and they fall into an old, familiar rhythm, no less exciting now than the first time they did this, Dean’s body on the threshold of adulthood and Sam’s so tiny beneath him, his eyes wide as though he couldn’t believe Dean was allowing this, baby-fingertips leaving scratch-marks on Dean’s skin that he guiltily relished for days afterward.

“Love you,” Sam says easily, steeped in pleasure. “Love this.”

They’re moving urgently now, rubbing slick and fast against each other, Dean repeatedly crooking his fingertips against Sam’s prostate and making him buck. 

“Ditto,” he says, and even two syllables are an effort when he’s desperate to make Sam come, holding on for both of them so that Sam can let himself go, can trust Dean to get them to the finish line. Kid probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Although, if he’s being honest, Dean hasn’t forgotten the last time they exchanged the same words during sex and Sam, giant-brained geek that he is, had teased him later about Swayze-ing it up. (Like Swayze in _Ghost_ , Dean’s only said those three words out loud when he’s dead, when he’s away from Sam with almost no hope of ever getting back to him.)

Sam’s uncoordinated hands struggle up to Dean’s face, clutching at him the way his hole’s grasping at Dean’s fingers. “C’mon, big brother. Fuck me like you mean it,” he says, as though he’s seeing right through Dean’s forehead and into his mind. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean says, tender, his tone belying a particularly sharp thrust of two fingers into Sam’s body.

“Make me,” Sam says, and pulls Dean’s mouth down to his.


End file.
